Growing Insurgency
by ja54591
Summary: Coming of age in the shadow of the Galactic Empire, the youngest members of the Ghost crew must learn how to survive in an intensifying conflict. Along the way, Ezra and Sabine learn hard truths about the value of trust, the nature of war, and the importance of family. Episodic shorts follow their development, from their beginnings on Lothal to the events of Season 3.
1. Riot

Sabine slipped between the angry forms, cursing herself internally for allowing herself to be talked into this assignment. Nothing good ever happened in crowds, especially on a backwater planet like Lothal. A foreign arm dragged across her shoulder as she willed herself to be thinner than she already was. A pickpocket worth half their salt could easily make off with a wallet or wrist-chrono without a trace. Sabine subconsciously brushed the inside of her thumbs across the retaining strap of her holsters, ensuring the blasters inside were securely nestled inside. The stench of body odor pricked at her nostrils, a putrid side-effect of the mass of bodies gathered together in the late-afternoon heat. She forced away the thoughts of unguarded coughs and unclean hands that carried unknown pathogens and sickness.

More than anything, crowds were a target, and a protest movement in Imperial Plaza was even more so.

A familiar shock of raven hair flashed by her.

"What's the matter, Sabine?" Ezra teased over the din of the crowd. "Can't find your way around a protest?"

Behind her helmet, Sabine clicked her teeth in annoyance. She had told Hera that she was better off on the mission solo than to have to babysit the kid in addition to finding their informant. It had been less than a month since he had joined the crew, and for as much as he had learned from the streets of Lothal, he was still a novice as an operator. He was rash. Impulsive.

A liability.

"Just trying not to rush into things," she quipped back. "I'm enjoying the art." The last statement was true; despite all the chaos, the radical colors of the protest signs inspired Sabine. The deep blues of the words "Go Home" scrawled on off-white paper, the cartoon representations of Governor Pryce and Minister Tua juxtaposed against red X's, all of it tempted her to find a scrap piece of cardstock to add her brilliant Starbird to the mix. "Besides, go too fast, and you'll miss something."

Ezra maintained a neutral expression, but Sabine's last quip landed heavily on his mind. For the past few weeks, he had tried to prove his worth to Sabine, Kanan, and the rest of the _Ghost_ 's crew. He volunteered for assignments as they came up, tried his best to learn Kanan's cryptic Jedi lessons, but still felt like he was just another burden for the team to carry. Effort only got one so far, and Ezra couldn't completely shove down his fear that one day Kanan and the rest would decide to end the "Ezra experiment" just as quickly as it had started. He had jumped at the chance to shadow Sabine on the intelligence handoff, and Hera had even commented that the two teenagers would be less conspicuous in the crowd together. The unstated "good idea" had caused his heart to jump, but now it was sinking again as he replayed Sabine's words in his mind.

 _No._ _Not this time. This time, I'm going to make an impact._ Ezra stopped beside a large, angry Aqualish man and surveyed the crowd. "Are you sure we have the right description? I don't see this guy anywhere" Ezra said, brows furrowing in frustration. Sabine appeared by his side, equally frustrated.

"White male human, green overcoat, at the center of the plaza by the fountain…" Sabine glanced at her wrist-chrono. "1750 hours. We're in the right place, right time."

"But nothing," Ezra muttered. "Maybe he's late?"

A flutter of motion in Sabine's periphery caused her to turn. Between the crowd and the street leading to the Imperial Center, a line of Stormtroopers held their rifles at the low ready, blocking the crowd from moving closer to the seat of Imperial power on Lothal. A set of transports had arrived, and a helmeted man in dark fatigues stepped out behind the line. He turned towards the crowd, as if he was searching the faces. His eyes locked onto her helmet, and a devilish grin spread across his face. Sabine's stomach twisted into a knot.

Agent Kallus had seen her.

"We're leaving," Sabine hissed at Ezra, her eyes still watching the Imperial.

"But we haven't seen…" Ezra began, trailing off as he found the object of Sabine's fixation. She grabbed his arm and ducked low into the crowd, pushing between bodies to put as much distance between them and the agent. The last glimpse she stole of Kallus, he was talking into a comlink. Suddenly, the cacophony of angry voices around them was punctuated by fearful shouts. "Sabine!" Ezra shouted, fear rising in his voice.

Sabine looked back to Ezra, catching a glimpse of a small metallic cylinder tumbling through the air and landing beside him. Before she could react, brilliant light filled her visor, then complete darkness. The ground rose up to meet her, and she laid in the darkness of her helmet, unknown weights slamming into her body.

 _Is this death?_ The clicking of her helmet's speaker and the small, white script that ran along her field of vision answered her question. The visor's protective mode finished its reset, and the light of day appeared before her eyes again. A moment later, the audio filters came online, filling her ears with the sounds of screams and panic. A protester lay on her right arm, clutching their ears and writhing in agony. She pulled her arm free and pushed herself up to her knees, still woozy from the concussive blast. _Ezra_. "Kid!" she shouted, panic rising in her chest as she realized he was no longer clutching her arm. "Ezra!"

She wheeled around. Five meters in every direction, protesters lay in various states of consciousness. The line of Stormtroopers was advancing through the plaza, and hundreds of gatherers were turning heel and fleeing as a stampede. Sabine finally caught a glimpse of the orange of Ezra's distinct flightsuit a meter behind her, and crawled to him. While her helmet's protective features had spared her from the worst of the stun grenade, Ezra had taken the full brunt of the blast. He was barely responsive, a trickle of blood running from his ear canal. Without thinking, Sabine gathered both of his wrists in one hand, and hoisted the boy with adrenaline-fueled strength across her shoulders. She ran, stepping around fallen bodies, but the crowd was threatening to overwhelm her. A small sidestreet jutted away from the plaza, and she let the riot channel her down it, away from the plaza. Ahead more Imperial transports were arriving, disgorging troopers into the street to block the crowd. The troopers began firing stun bolts into the wave of people advancing towards them.

Sabine wheeled down an alley, dodging trash bins and bags of refuse. The sounds of the crowd were fading, but more and more sirens were competing with the sound of the pounding heartbeat in her ears. Her lungs and legs burned with exertion, and Ezra's form seemed to increase in weight, pressing her shoulders painfully downwards. She kept running, head beginning to cow from exhaustion, rounding the narrow corner of the alley.

She saw the troopers too late, and felt a bolt explode against her chest. Sabine cried out as she was knocked backwards, as if a Wookie had slammed its fist against her collarbone. She splayed backwards, kicking up a small cloud of dust as she collapsed onto the ground. Trying to move her arm only intensified the fiery pain in her chest. She peered ahead at the troopers. One had his blaster firmly trained on her, clearly watching her hands for any intention of trying for her weapons. The other had his hand pressed to his earpiece.

"Inform Agent Kallus, we have two suspects in custody that fit the description of his fugitives. Yes sir… acknowledged…" Sabine's heart sank. The burning pain in her collarbone began to be eclipsed by her fear and wounded pride. Her mind rushed with images of torture, isolation, and darkness.

She almost didn't feel the slight tugging at her belt.

Two shots erupted from her right, passing between her side and her arm. The first bolt slammed into the trooper on the left, impacting in the opening between the breastplate and the helmet, propelling him backwards into the wall. The second landed almost precisely where the other trooper held his hand to the side of his helmet, launching him sideways down the alley. Sabine jerked her torso around, ignoring the stab of pain from her shoulder.

Ezra lay on his side, slightly bending where she lay on his torso. Extended outwards was her yellow WESTAR-35 blaster, a trail of ozone gently wafting upwards, shaking slightly in his hand, finger still taut on the trigger. His face was blank, almost expressionless. Sabine gently put her hand over the top of the blaster, and his hand fell away from the handle, relinquishing control to her. Without a word, she eased herself up, extending a hand to the boy. He rose from the ground, and the two limped further down the alley

* * *

The door to the common room of the _Ghost_ slid open, and Sabine strode in. Ezra looked up from where he was seated at the Dejarik table, earning him a chiding from Hera who was trying to apply the final round of bacta spray to his ears.

"Hold still, you don't want another punctured eardrum, do you?" Hera said, matronly as ever. Ezra grunted in compliance, allowing the small nozzle to enter his ear canal. Kanan and Zeb stood on the other end of the room, watching the Twi'lek apply the medication. Sabine allowed a slight grin to grow on her face as she watched them, contrasting Kanan's open concern for the boy with Zeb's obvious efforts to mask his own worries. The Lasat rubbed his hand on the back of his head, his characteristic "tell" for when he was genuinely worried.

"Ya' think he'll be able to hear again?" Zeb asked.

"Dunno, not that he listens anyways," Kanan joked with a slight smile.

"I can hear you two," Erza grumbled. Sabine could see that he was trying to look frustrated, but a glow was brightening his features. She slid onto the bench beside him, careful not to jostle the sling that was holding her arm securely against her body.

"Well, that should do it," Hera announced. "Now if the two of you can avoid creating any more riots, you should be back in the fight in no time."

"It wasn't our fault," Ezra protested.

"He's right," Sabine added. "Agent Kallus was waiting for us. I don't even think there was an informant there. It was probably all a ruse, to get us caught in the dragnet around the city."

"More than likely," Kanan agreed. "The two of you are lucky to be here." Sabine looked to Ezra and gave him an approving smile.

"It was a good thing I had backup," she said. "The kid's green, but makes up for it in spirit." The glow on Ezra's face brightened to a stronger look of pride. He looked from Sabine, to Kanan, to Hera, to Zeb, delighted by their looks of approval.

"Also," Zeb chimed in, "the kid seems to be a pretty good shot. Caught both of the bucketheads in the weak points of the armor." Sabine watched as the look of pride morphed into a more sheepish grin.

"Well, kinda…" he began. Sabine's inquisitive eyebrow made him shift a little in his seat. "I might have been aiming a little low…" Now Kanan's eyebrows had raised.

"How low?"

Ezra sighed. "Okay, I was aiming at their crotch."

The halls of the _Ghost_ vibrated with the sound of the crew's riotous laughter.

 **Author's note: Thank you so much for reading! These shorts are a bit of a passion project for me, but I would greatly appreciate any criticism or suggestions you have for the story or my style. I'm looking forward to continuing to develop Sabine and Ezra, as well as their relationships with the rest of the crew.**

 **All the best,**

 **JA**


	2. Strength

The shriek of the _Phantom_ 's sublight drives drowned out the sound of blaster fire as it scythed downwards into the street below. Dust and litter kicking outward from its sudden arrival, the craft banked upwards as it slid to a halt on an invisible cushion of energy. As the pitch of the engines dropped to an idling growl, the dorsal cannon erupted in a staccato of lethal fire, sending Stormtroopers diving for cover. The rear ramp swung open, unphased by the impacts of the troopers' disorganized counterfire.

"Spectres! We are leaving!" Hera shouted over the comlink, as if the chaos of the shuttle's arrival hadn't been enough of a warning.

Sabine was in a dead sprint towards the ramp. Her sight seemed to twist and contort the street around her, the only clear image being the ramp of the _Phantom_ directly ahead of her. Even the brilliant reds of streaking plasma were lost to the haze in her periphery, which continued to constrict her remaining vision like a set of hands tightening around a paper tube. Sound had lost definition, only the thumping of her feet hitting the ground and the vibrating hum of the _Phantom_ 's engines piercing her consciousness.

She barreled into the back of the craft, nearly tumbling into the back of the pilot's station. The craft buckled as more bodies clamored aboard and the ramp slammed closed. The growl returned to a shriek as the _Phantom_ lept into the sky, a flurry of dust and blaster bolts in its wake.

The world spun wildly around Sabine, and the confines of her helmet suddenly felt suffocating. She ripped it from her head, not bothering to control its fall to the deck of the shuttle. She grasped for the wall stowage and forced it open, unable to control the vertigo gripping her. What little was remaining in her stomach left the horrid taste of bile and acid in her mouth as she retched.

Hands were now grasping her shoulders, carrying her downward. The fold-out seat ended her decent.

"There's blood! Get the kit!"

"It's not mine." Sabine said blankly.

* * *

Sabine stared into the inky blackness around her. The dark seemed to bear down upon her, like a suffocating fabric slowly gripping her, brushing through her hair and surrounding her body. Her fingers wrapped tighter around the cool metal in her hand, settling into the grooved form that seemed to welcome her grasp. She raised it in front of her face, trying to make out its form from the nothingness behind it. From her hand extended cold durasteel, forged into a cylindrical grip. Between her fingers, the black of the steel was accented by silver rings running perpendicular to its length, forming the narrow channels that her fingers so perfectly fit in.

Extending from the black hilt, silver metal jutted outward in a gentle curve. The forged steel narrowed to a razor's edge on one side, while the other was left jagged like the talons of a bird of prey. Both sides drew closer, coming to a narrow point that radiated unseen energy in the darkness. The blade coursed and hummed, possessed with the desire to maim and lacerate. The vibrations rolled through her fingers into her arm, settling into the pit of her stomach.

As she watched, the radiant tip began to darken, as the void collapsed onto the blade. The shallow channel running the length of the blade filled with darkness, slowly oozing towards her hand. Fear rising in her mind, Sabine tried to cast the blade aside to separate herself from the encroaching darkness, but the knife remained fixed to her, like an extension of her body. The darkness had now covered the blade and spilled over the hilt onto her hands. Cold, black, and viscous, it crept onto her skin.

Heartbeat sounding in her ears, Sabine looked for somewhere to run, eyes settling an undefined shape on the ground beside her. As she drew closer, the darkness parted from the shape, revealing white plastoid. A leg, then a torso, then an arm began to take shape. The darkness recessed over the head, lingering to form the deep black of the helmet's eyes. She knelt to the figure's side, but the darkness refused to depart from the pools that stained the chestpiece and shoulder guard. Slowly, she extended her free hand to slide the helmet free.

The jawline of a young boy protruded from the bottom of the helmet. The vibroblade hummed with evil anticipation

 _No._

A lock of raven hair spilled out from under the mask. The hum grew to a whine.

 _Please, no._

The helmet completely fell away, as clouded azure eyes stared emptily into hers.

 _Not again._

The darkness surged upwards, swallowing up the face, climbing to her calves, her waist, her chin in an instant. She flailed, but the vibroblade dove downward, dragging her under the tide of black. As the cold liquid poured into her mouth and filled her lungs, the shriek of the vibroblade sounded in her ears.

* * *

Hera woke a second before the scream ripped through the darkened halls of the _Ghost_. The small holdout blaster was in her hand in an instant, and by the next she was already to the opening of the hall. In the two strides that propelled her to the next room, Hera processed the scene before her.

The door to Sabine's room was open. The burly shoulders of the Lasat were locked in the stance of a warrior, halfway through the open door. Ezra was beside the bed, being violently shaken from the unseen side of the room.

Hera finally saw her when she pushed past Zeb into the room. The Mandalorian towered over Ezra, her fists clenched into the shoulders of his nightshirt. Her hair draped downward into her face, too short to hide the manic look in her eyes. Her knees were pulled tight to Ezra's sides, pinning him to the floor. Hera lept across the room and grasped the Mando by the shoulders, pulling her backwards from her dominant stance. She wrapped her arms around the chest and under the armpit, feeling the struggle of a pinned animal flailing against her. Zeb grabbed Ezra shoulders and ripped him away with a mighty pull. Hera held her grasp until the flailing stopped.

Sabine was gasping and choking for air. Cold sweat poured from her body, drenching the shorts and nightshirt she wore. Sanity slowly returned to her tortured mind, but the chills still ran to her core, shaking her uncontrollably.

"You're okay."

Sabine looked at the soft, green arms embraced around her. _Hera_. She turned to look up into Hera's eyes, filled with sadness and worry.

Sabine looked to the other side of the room. Ezra was locked in to Zebs grip, fear and confusion in his eyes. _No. I didn't. Did I? What did I do? What have I done?_ The tears came like a torrent, bringing the feeling of strangulation to her throat once more.

Kanan stood in the doorway, overlooking the scene. He looked to Hera, and with a nod shepherded Zeb and Ezra out of the room. Hera continued to hold Sabine until the sobbing had slowed to a softer whimper. Gathering a clean quilt from storage, she wrapped the teen and helped her to her feet, slowly walking her to the front of the _Ghost_. The two arrived in the cockpit, and Hera sat Sabine down in the passenger seat adorned by speckled purple paint and bright orange lines. Sabine tucked her knees to her chest and pulled the quilt closer around her, burying her face in the soft, clean cloth. Hera stepped out of the cockpit, then returned moments later with a small mug.

"Hera… I don't…" Sabine eked out. Hera's gently shook her head before Sabine could continue.

"Shh. Drink." Hera put the mug in Sabine's hand, covering the teen's fingers with her own and helping the ceramic to her lips. Warm and floral, the liquid brought a small comfort to Sabine's exhausted core. The two sat facing each other, the quiet of the night only punctured by the short sips the teen took from the mug. Kanan slowly leaned into the cockpit, silently gesturing towards the crew quarters with his head and nodded slowly. Hera nodded back, as as Kanan left the doorway, she closed the sliding door behind him. Tea gone, Sabine was looking through the glass of the cockpit into the universe above.

"Is Ezra okay?"

"He will be," Hera affirmed. "Just a little shaken. Nothing to worry yourself over."

"I saw him, Hera. I saw him, and there was a knife, and it was so dark…" Sabine's voice rising as the dream returned to her mind. Hera stopped her before she could work herself back into a panic.

"It's okay. He's safe. You're safe." Hera took the empty cup and set it to the side, adjusting the cabin lighting to let the instrument panels brighten the cabin with a colorful glow. She looked into the face of the teen, now illuminated a gentle shade of orange. Hera had an idea of what she was dealing with, but she tread carefully.

"Tell me about yesterday."

Sabine swallowed hard, tension evident in her jaw. She looked to Hera, seeing compassion, concern, and empathy. She looked one more time to ensure the door was closed, breathed in to brace herself, and began.

* * *

The street wasn't particularly wide, a single lane of traffic running in either direction. That didn't stop the local traffic, which flowed in a constant stream. As Sabine observed from an adjacent rooftop, she could tell why the city had made plans to widen the street before the arrival of the Empire. The street led from the Imperial Center around the congestion of the downtown core and linked back in with the main highway making it a convenient bypass to anyone headed to the seat of government.

She smirked behind her helmet. _Convenience breeds carelessness._ Looking up the street, she could see the flash of Zeb and Ezra's torch, signaling their readiness. Almost on cue, the Imperial convoy exited the highway and began its approach to their position. Sabine flipped down the stem of her rangefinder.

"Spectre 1, Spectre 5. Visual contact, three transports approaching from the northeast. Thirteen-hundred meters, over."

"Acknowledged. Target package is in the second truck. I'm stopping southbound traffic, you are cleared to engage."

Sabine craned her neck to look down the road the opposite direction. Kanan casually strolled to a small street vendor, then stumbled, knocking the wares into the street. Traffic came to a screeching halt, and curses in multiple languages rang out. With the civilians clear, Sabine turned her attention back to the approaching transports. The lead vehicle passed the trashcans set on either side of the road. Sabine thumbed the initiator.

A brilliant explosion lept out from a pile of trash bags beside the lead transport. The superheated gas sent a rod of liquid metal hurtling at supersonic speed, piercing the armor of the transport and severing the power supply of the vehicle. The second transport was following too close, and came to a halt just inches from the wreck in front of it. Sabine thumbed the detonator again, unleashing a second explosion from a berm adjacent to the trail vehicle. The blast threw the multi-ton vehicle onto its side, trapping the middle truck.

On cue, Zeb and Ezra emerged from their position across the street, peppering the disabled vehicles with bow-rifle fire and energy sling pellets. Dazed Stormtroopers began emerging from the disabled vehicles, taking cover behind the smoldering wrecks. Zeb and Ezra's fire inflicted few casualties, but distracted the guards enough for the Mandalorian to pass unnoticed. Sabine dropped from the roof to the alley below her, then snuck down the street towards the untouched target. She reached the transport, and placed a small ribbon of detcord on the frame, slicing open the side entrance.

Sabine stepped inside, only to be struck by a pang of frustration. The vehicle was completely empty.

"Spectre 1, 5. Negative HVT, we've got the wrong convoy."

"Acknowledged. _Karabast._ Get to the rally point for extraction. 1 out."

Sabine couldn't remember the last time she had heard Kanan curse, let alone over the comm. She hopped out of the transport, unable to shake the feeling that they'd been set up again. Who was feeding them this bad intel?

The brief moment of contemplation was interrupted by a flash of white in her periphery. Suddenly, Sabine felt a massive weight slam into her side, pinning her against the side of the transport. Caught off guard, she could only yelp in pain as a Stormtrooper drove his shoulder into her chest, knocking the wind out of her and breaking her grip on her blasters. The trooper slammed his knee into her side and threw an elbow into her neck, trying to break her balance but inadvertently losing grip of her arm. She instinctively whipped it around the back of his neck, trying to catch his head in a guillotine choke. The trooper reared back to escape. Locked in the crook of Sabine's arm, the helmet slipped from his head, sending him stumbling backwards.

Sabine froze at the sight of the trooper's face. As he struggled to regain his footing, she could see the paleness of his skin, undoubtedly a side-effect of too much time spent in the armor. His hair was shaven nearly to the skin, but a dark stubble had begun to grow from the top. He looked up to her, and she locked on to the color of his eyes. They were a deep blue, almost like Ezra's, but with an overwhelming sense of dread and fear. It was the eyes that betrayed his age; he couldn't be much older than 18, nearly as old as herself.

The trooper charged again, this time knocking Sabine to the ground and pinning her chest beneath his. Instinct took control of her movements, her knee slamming into his side as she fought to keep him from moving over her. She struggled to try to lock her legs around him and fight for dominance, but he wasn't giving her the space that she had earlier exploited. He brought his forearms hard into her chest and drove his knee over her thigh, now completely on top of her. Sabine dug her chin into her chest to protect her neck, but the trooper was leveraging her helmet against the strength of her neck. One arm shoved through the gap and grasped the fabric at the neck of her flightsuit. The other wrapped the opposite direction, pulling the collar of the suit tight around her neck.

Sabine gasped for air, desperate to fight back, but panicking as she felt him begin to set the choke. She punched wildly at him, but his head was too far for land the blow. She began to grasp at his sides, trying to find leverage, anything to stop him. The corners of her vision were darkening, and sound was beginning to grow distant. His eyes flashed with rage; he was going to choke the life out of her. Sabine groped in desperation for a way out.

She felt the handle on his waist.

Her hand grasped around it and she pulled with all her remaining strength, breaking it free from its retaining strap. The darkness in her vision clouded the shape of the small utility knife, but it was her only chance. She swung once more at his head.

The blade connected, burying itself deep in the side of the trooper's neck.

The arms around her neck slackened, and Sabine felt blood return to her head. She looked up at the trooper over her.

The eyes, still full of fear, widened with shock. Sabine watched as a primal panic set into his eyes as he stared back at her. Then, almost as quickly as it set in, the emotion vanished, along with the rest of the humanity. The trooper's eyes dimmed, and his body began to slump forward. Sabine rolled as he fell, freeing herself of his weight. She struggled to her knees, looking down at the body.

The mortal wound had slowed in its release of blood, but the damage was done. The trooper's armor, once the sterile white indicative of countless hours of discipline and polish now lay dull and tarnished by the dust of the street. Brilliant crimson streaked across the breastplate and shoulder guard, dark pools spreading into tattered streaks from the contact. The knife was now laying at her feet, coated from the tip to where her fingers had wrapped around the handles. Her own hands were covered, and smears ran from her forearms and ended in drops and dots on her chestpiece.

A firefight was raging around her, but all she could see was the life leaving the eyes of the trooper.

The world began to shift. Sabine felt the grips of the blasters she had dropped and holstered them. She couldn't break her gaze from the corpse in the street.

 _Sabine!_

She continued to stare.

"Sabine! Let's go!" Kanan was practically screaming to her. In the distance, the whine of the _Phantom_ 's engines was growing louder.

Sabine turned and began to run.

* * *

Hera was once again holding the teen, letting Sabine bury her face into her shoulder.

"Why… why did he… I didn't want to… but I did…" Sabine choked out.

"You did what you had to." Hera said, running her hand along Sabine's back. Behind the bright hair and wiry muscles, Hera could feel a lost, confused girl who had lost so much so early.

"I… I hesitated… What… What if… what if next time… it's not me..."

"Sabine, we trust you," Hera said, the comforting tone tinged with blunt seriousness. "With our lives. We know that you would do what you had to keep us safe." Sabine sat slightly straighter, eyes downcast but listening.

"This war takes from all of us. You, me, Kanan, Zeb, Ezra. It's easier when the enemy doesn't have a face, but ultimately we have to keep fighting for what's right. For each other."

Sabine's eyes remained low, not daring to meet Hera's gaze.

"My family, my culture… I'm so weak…"

Hera's finger lifted Sabine's chin, bringing her to look directly into her eyes.

"Killing without remorse isn't strength. Strength is standing for what you believe, and doing what you have to keep standing."

Sabine held the gaze a few moments longer, then leaned into Hera once more, clinging tightly to her. Hera wrapped her arms around her, holding Sabine until the shaking ended and her eyelids began to flutter.

"And we will always be standing beside you." Hera whispered, as Sabine finally allowed herself to settle into a gentle repose.

 **Author's note: I am astounded and deeply grateful for the support "Riot" received. I invite your response, commentary, and critique on the subject matter or my writing style, everything is fair game. Again, thank you so much for your time, I'm looking forward to the next episode!**

 **All the best,**

 **JA**


	3. The Connection

Ezra's brow furrowed in frustration as he massaged his temples. The tension in his jawline was beginning to radiate through the rest of his skull, like a durasteel line pulled taut to its breaking point. The cramped cupula of the _Ghost's_ dorsal cannon was now cluttered with bits of scrap electronics and metals, an impassible minefield for anyone unwise enough to enter without sturdy footwear. Ezra drew a long breath and let it out in a sigh. Even the air, normally the neutral scent of the ship's filtration system, was now stale and stagnant, punctuated with the metallic funk of solder and the sickly-sweet scent of body odor.

 _I need to shower_. He had shut himself away in the space for days, even sleeping in the gunner's seat, only emerging occasionally to grab a nutri-bar or refill his canteen. The hours spent sweating over the heat of soldering iron had caused the stench to become noticeable to even him, no easy task in its own right. Perhaps the heat of the water would help restore some clarity to his mind, and help him with the task at hand.

 _No. I haven't earned it yet._ Ezra stared in front of his crossed legs, looking at the source of his frustration. The cuboidal handle rested on the deck, separated just above the handgrip ridges to reveal the open cavity inside. Beside it, the remainder of the completed handguard merged seamlessly with the muzzle brake of the blaster extension Ezra had crafted, vaguely forming a "C" in shape. The assembly was ambitious, and sure to bring a questioning look from Kanan, but the master hadn't told him he couldn't be innovative with the design. Though Ezra's first few attempts at the assembly had seen some setbacks, his familiarity of electronics bred by years of survival had eventually brought the handle of the weapon together.

Ezra's problem was the crystal.

The tiny prism refracted and danced the light of the worklamp across the walls of the ship. Ezra had been taken aback by its beauty when it had descended into his hands, but now the energy seemed to be mocking him, as if it rejected any thought of being subjected to Ezra's will. He had tried to place the crystal into the cavity of the handle what felt like a thousand times, first by hand then with the assistance of Sabine's bomb-making tools. Even with the added stability, the crystal refused to seat properly. As soon as he would bring the components together, the infuriating metallic _tink_ of the crystal rattling against the inside of the chamber would be heard.

A dozen design modifications hadn't resolved the issue. He had changed the size of the receptacle, tried creating a access compartment that would allow him to place the crystal without opening the handle, even propping the crystal up with a mesh of supporting struts, but each time he had thumbed the activator the _pop_ of the energy cell firing was unaccompanied by any movement from the blade emitter shroud.

Leaning back against the bulkhead of the ship, Ezra cast his gaze towards the heavens. The blue glow of the Kyber reflected against the transparisteel dome of the turret, mirroring his fatigued and irritated face back at him. Ezra continued to stare at the dome, waiting for his eyes to refocus. Slowly, the black of the night began to show through the blue reflection, accompanied by the pinpricks of a billion stars shining in the clear sky. Nothing seemed to make any sense. He thought about Kanan's lightsaber, and how badly he wished to look inside the elegant weapon for inspiration. But just as he had been so reticent about the trial at the temple, Kanan had left Ezra to build the saber alone and unaided.

"A Jedi's lightsaber is an expression of its wielder," Kanan had said, shortly before turning his back and leaving Ezra in the room alone.

 _I passed your test. I got the crystal. What more do you want from me?_ Ezra could feel the anger building in his chest as he allowed himself to slip into self-pity. Of all people, Kanan should be the one to understand how important it was for Ezra to get the lightsaber. The threats facing the _Ghost_ crew seemed to grow every day, the greatest of them being the Inquisitor. Ezra's meager skills may not be enough to best the powerful adversary, but it gave them a chance. Alone, Kanan was no match. _And if I can't help him…_

Ezra's thoughts returned to the temple, to the vision that had seemed too close to reality. Ezra had accepted his fears, but that didn't mean they had left him. The screaming pain he had felt as he watched his master being run through by the crimson blade, and the cold sinking fear as the lightsaber failed in his hand were locked in his mind. He couldn't put aside how he had been unable to do anything but flee as the Inquisitor had scythed through Zeb, then Hera aboard the _Ghost._ The cries of Sabine's apparition still burned in his ears.

"Ezra! Wait! Help us!"

The vision had seen fit not to force him to watch as her life was cut short, but her scream had flooded through the closed door as if he had been beside her. The same scream he had heard come from her room, the only other time he had ever seen true fear in her. When the door had opened, her lifeless legs barely visible behind the red blade of the approaching Inquisitor, Ezra had felt the same horrible helplessness that he had that night, unable to do anything to protect her or even save himself.

He was too weak. He had to be stronger. He needed the weapon.

He needed the power.

A slight pain in his hand broke his train of thought. The room had become unnaturally dark, and he looked down to find his hand wrapped in a fist, clenching the Kyber crystal with a death grip, so hard that the crystal had begun to cut into his hand. The blue glow had faded slightly, giving the crystal a unnatural stillness.

"Feel! Yes! How?" Yoda had asked him.

" _Alive_ ," he had responded.

The crystal glowed a little brighter. Suddenly, Kanan's words rushed to the forefront of his mind.

"A Jedi's lightsaber is an expression of its wielder, and the crystal is a symbol of their connection to the living Force."

 _A connection._

Ezra slowly placed the crystal next to the disassembled hilt. Breathing deeply in, Ezra allowed his eyes to close and his hands to fall to his knees. He slowly let out the breath, focusing on his slowing heartbeat. In his mind's eye, there was nothing but darkness.

Then, slowly, a single light. As Ezra focused on it, he was overwhelmed by the sense of familiarity. The first time Ezra had felt Kanan's presence in the force, the strength and energy of his character had nearly broken his concentration. It had taken days for him to allow his mind to open to Kanan, let alone the rest of the Force. Allowing himself to relax, Ezra saw more points of light beginning to surround Kanan, beginning with three points emanating close to him, then another, then even more, until Ezra was again seeing a billion points of light. The points started to move and orbit around him, until he could begin to sense their places relative to his own in space and time.

He focused on the three closest to Kanan. One was immediately besides him, the flare of the two lights mingling between each other. It was full of compassion and abundant warmth.

 _Hera._

He turned his attention to the next presence. There was a distinct strength to it, but not in the same way he felt the strength in Kanan's presence. This one had the essence of duty and honor about it, as well as a strong sense of pride.

 _Zeb._

The third burned vigorously with energy and spirit, resolute and free. It flickered with curiosity and creativity, a rebellious signature so unmistakable that Ezra couldn't help the small grin that it brought to his face.

 _Sabine._

Ezra allowed himself to be surrounded by them, feeling their distinct patterns, learning their forms. Like a constellation in the night sky, the four seemed to radiate lines between each other, and to him. Ezra reached out for those connections, distinct feelings flooding into his mind. Loss. Regret. Anger. Love. Trust. But another, even more powerful feeling penetrated through him to the depths of his soul.

 _Hope._

Ezra opened his eyes. The small cabin was filled with brilliant blue light, the small crystal shining like a star as it rotated, suspended at eye level. Ezra felt the light coursing through him, losing himself in the warmth of the others. The two pieces of the handle rose from the ground, aligning themselves and slowly lowering over the crystal. As the light of the crystal began to narrow between the approaching components, the handguard rose up and aligned itself with the handle, all three components nestling securely into each other. The saber gently descended in the darkened room, coming to rest securely in his hand.

Ezra rolled the handled in his hand, inspecting it, finding no gaps or flaws between the joints of the components. He felt the weight of it, the motion eliciting no noise from the inside of the handle. A calm rushed over Ezra as he stared at the instrument in his hand. There was a twinge of desire to press the activator, but he restrained himself. He stood and walked to the ladder that lead to the common room. He could hear voices discussing him below.

Ezra let a warm smile grow across his face as he mounted the ladder, eager to show his family his work.

 **Author's note: Thank you to Rebels-lover for the idea of exploring Ezra's reaction to "Strength." I had originally planned to focus largely on the dream sequence in "Path of the Jedi," but it seemed natural to tie the two together. Also, a huge shout-out to Lombax901 and his story _Compulsion_ , which inspired my depiction of the Force in Ezra's mind. It's an excellent read, and I highly recommend it.**

 **All the best,**

 **JA**


	4. Waiting

Sabine lay in her bunk, staring idly at the dull orange paneling above her. Her body ached from the day's events, but her mind burned with unanswered questions, warding away the healing comfort of sleep.

 _Another close call._ The "quiet, backwater town" they were promised turned out to be anything but. Instead of delivering medical supplies to a badly under-resourced clinic, the _Ghost_ team had found themselves swarmed with Stormtroopers. One had even managed to grab Ezra for a brief moment, before Zeb's fist sent the trooper back through the fake wall he had emerged from. A few well-thrown detonators and a quick pick-up by Hera managed to stop the mission from becoming a complete catastrophe.

 _Too close._

Sabine hopped down from the bed and slid into the chair in the alcove underneath, scratching graphene onto a pad of scratch paper left over from the night before. _Someone_ was feeding them the bad intel, but who? Hera and Kanan weren't naive or stupid enough to take information without verifying it, so how had they managed to get burned not once, but three times?

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. The door slid open, the light from the room highlighting the purposive look on Hera's face.

"Suit up, quietly. We're leaving."

* * *

The _Phantom_ skimmed the rolling plains, illuminated by the gentle glow of twin moons. Sabine checked the charge on her blasters, almost subconsciously executing her pre-mission ritual. She chanced to break the silence that had dominated the two since they had departed the _Ghost_.

"So, do I get to know what's happening this time?"

"As a matter of fact, yes," Hera replied with a tone of understanding that caught her off-guard. She switched control of the _Phantom_ over to Chopper and swivelled the pilot's chair to face Sabine. Hera's intense gaze made Sabine regret the words that had managed to slip past her tongue. Sabine picked up her helmet and held it in her lap, fiddling with the stalk of the rangefinder in a futile attempt to hide her sheepish look. Hera put her hand on her arm and smiled. "I know you still have your concerns about not being in-the-know about _Fulcrum_. I've thought a lot about it, and I completely understand not wanting to be kept in the dark. So, this time you're the one in-the-know." Sabine beamed back at Hera, intensely thankful for the display of trust.

"The three bad ops were planned off of intel we received from Vizago," Hera began. Sabine's smile fell into a frown.

"That _sleemo_. It was only a matter of time until someone offered him a price high enough..."

Hera smirked.

"That's what Kanan said. And that's why he's not along for the ride." The response elicited a raised eyebrow from Sabine. "The thing is, if Vizago wanted to sell us out, he would have long ago. Most of the intel we have gotten from him in the past has been good. It doesn't add up."

Sabine continued to stare quizzically at Hera. "So, what exactly are we going to do about it?"

Hera grinned in a way Sabine had thought only Ezra's mischievous face could.

"We're going to ask for a refund."

* * *

Hera took a deep breath to calm her nerves, and thumbed the _Phantom_ 's hatch release. Stepping into the chill of the early morning, she walked alone towards the towering rock spires that ringed the _Broken Horn_ 's landing site. The moons had begun to dip towards the horizon, casting jagged shadows across the hull of the light cruiser. The broken silhouette created by the breaks in illumination made the ship seem to blend into the rocky terrain behind it, undoubtedly the intent of its devious captain. As she approached, the sharp _hiss_ of the boarding ramp descending from the hull broke the morning peace. Fluorescent lighting poured out from the ship, and approaching metallic footsteps warned of the twin IG-RM enforcers' presence. Hera stopped a few meters from the base of the ramp, eyeing the droids. As the droids made their way to the bottom of the ramp, their horned proprietor appeared in the doorway.

"Captain Syndulla, what an unexpected surprise," Vizago began, placing his hands on his hips. "Especially at this hour, and without your _man_. If you had let me know you were coming, I could have had a room prepared…"

Hera's _lekku_ twitched in displeasure at the comment, but her face remained passive.

"This isn't a social call. I'm here for a refund." The Devaronian scoffed.

"What do you think this is, a street fair? You know how the business is run, all sales are final, all items as-is. Besides…" Vizago gestured to the droids, who made a point to visibly disarm the safeties of their rifles. "You don't seem to have any leverage in the matter."

"More than you know."

The droids wheeled around to face the new voice. Sabine stood on the engine nacelles of the freighter. Thumbing the control in her hand, a string of detonators at the base of the engine glowed to life, their rhythmic chiming signaling their ill intent. Vizago's expression flashed from smugness to anger.

"What is this? After all the help I have been to you and your little band, this is how you repay me? This is extortion!"

Hera crossed her arms, not bothering to hide the smug smile that crossed her face. "Extortion? No. Consumer protection? Probably. Your intel has lead us into traps three times now. I can only imaging that when word gets out that your intel is bad _and_ _you've lost your ship_ , your clientele will have their own questions."

To Hera's surprise, the Devaronian seemed more startled by her first statement than the threat. "To threaten my ship is one thing, but my word? That is another thing entirely."

"Prove it. Give us your source." Vizago hesitated, then let out a resigned sigh.

"I'll help you find the informant. But there's a catch."

* * *

Sabine shook her head to try to ward away the fatigue, and swore at herself under her breath. For the past two nights, sleep had evaded her like oil from water. But now, twelve kilometers between her and any friendly support, exhaustion had begun to weigh upon her mind and body, pressing down upon her and narrowing her vision. She readjusted the cycler rifle's stock in her shoulder for the umteenth time and focused down the scope. The grassy ridgeline gave her a commanding view over the entire Imperial mining complex, which had emptied of employees as the sun had begun to set. She swept the sights over the buildings, searching for any sign of activity.

A small windmill rotated at the far end of the complex, its blades casting long shadows against the sides of the non-descript utility sheds of the complex. As the blades rotated, the shadows swept along the metal siding of the sheds, given a slight orange hue by the setting sun. The shadows seemed to spin with a dance-like quality, like spirits gathering and celebrating the end of another rotation…

 _Tink._

Sabine was startled back into consciousness, realising that her eyes had been closed. As her head had drooped, the top of her helmet had gently collided with the scope of the cycler rifle. A barely-stifled snort of laughter from her side made her cheeks flush with embarrassment. She shifted her eyes to the direction of the chortle. Ezra lay prone beside her, electrobinoculars held tight to his eyes, unable to completely hide the amused grin that was spreading across his face.

"I'm awake," Sabine whispered with equal parts irritation and confusion in her voice.

"Is that a statement, or a question?" Ezra replied. Sabine scowled at him from behind her helmet as he rolled to his side to face her. "You know, if you need more company to help entertain you, that can be arranged," the boy said with a grin. He extended his hand out behind them, eliciting a rustling from the grasses.

"By the Force, you sic another Loth-cat on me, I'll tag _you_ for Vizago," Sabine hissed. Ezra continued to grin, but rolled over to continue scanning. The rustling ceased.

Vizago had given them the location of his informant, but not the name. Rather, Vizago didn't know who the person was beyond the fact that the information they provided had been good previously and he had the right Imperial credentials to prove he worked at the facility. As part of Hera's deal, Sabine and Ezra were to "arrange" a face-to-face meeting between the informant and the Devaronian. The implication, however, was that they would have to deduce who the rogue Imperial was.

Sabine returned to her scan of the compound, the sun finally setting over the horizon. As minutes passed, darkness began to fall, and she could feel her eyelids becoming heavy again. She heard Ezra roll over again, this time accompanied by the quiet clicking of a backpack zipper being undone. He rolled back to his front, playing with an object in his hands.

"Take this."

"Huh?" Sabine grunted, slightly surprised by the authoritative tone in his voice.

"C'mon. Food. Bucket off. Take it." He extended his hand, a small rectangle in it. She studied his gesture for a second, before taking the object into her hand. It was soft and spongy, but still too dark to be recognized. She leaned the cycler rifle on its bipod and slipped her helmet off, placing it by the buttstock. Bringing the object to her mouth, she took a small bite. Immediately, the sweet taste of chocolate mixed with vanilla brightened her senses. She took a second, much larger bite, willing the nutrients to hit her bloodstream as fast as possible.

It dawned on her that the ration was a personal favorite of Ezra's. For a kid who had spent so many years on the streets, without knowing when his next meal would come, the gift of food was an incredibly touching gesture. Sabine broke off a piece of the bar and slipped it back into Ezra's hand.

"Thank you."

Electrobinoculars back at his eyes, Ezra smiled and popped the chunk into his mouth.

"Don't mention it."

Sabine shouldered the rifle again without replacing the helmet, and the two continued to scan in silence. The quick boost of calories had been exactly what she had needed, focus and clarity returning for the moment. As she scanned, she continued to ponder the small gesture. She decided to return the favor.

"Come over here," Sabine said flatly. Ezra's head jerked, looking at her wide-eyed.

"What?"

Sabine rolled her eyes. "The rifle, laserbrain. Get on it."

"Oh… um, right," Ezra stuttered as he shimmied over. Sabine rolled, letting him lay directly behind the long rifle. He extended a hesitant hand towards the grip, then rested the entire buttstock on the top of his shoulder. Sabine suppressed a laugh.

"You've shot a cycler, correct?"

"Of course, hundreds of times," Ezra confirmed, convincing nobody. Sabine shook her head with a smile and reached around him, sliding the stock so it sat firmly in the pocket of his shoulder. She gave his hips a little push to square him completely behind the rifle, noting the twitch she elicited from his body.

"It's not hard. Pull it in tight to you, and rest your cheek against the stock." She gently put her hands to his face, correcting his form. "There you go. Now, the sight will take care of the fact that there's some drop to the projectile, and any wind. All you have to do is place the red dot in the center of the chest and gently squeeze the trigger. And don't try for any trick shots."

"Uh, Sabine…" Ezra mumbled as he peered down the scope. Sabine grabbed the electrobinoculars and looked towards the facility. A military transport had entered from the far side. The door slid open, and Agent Kallus stepped out into the deserted street, flanked by a pair of troopers.

" _Karabast_. I think we're blown again…" Ezra began.

"No. They'd be up here if they knew." Sabine continued to watch the street. A door on one of the buildings opened, and a foreman walked to the small group gathered by the transport. Kallus shook his hand, and the two began to converse. "He fits the description that Vizago had," Sabine said. "Foreman rank, male, works the night shift… this must be our bad lead."

"Got it," Ezra said as he began to shift away from the rifle.

"No, you're already there. Take the shot."

Ezra looked at Sabine, his usual bravado replaced by a youthful nervousness.

"Uh, Sabine, I don't really…"

"We're going to miss our chance if you don't hurry up." She looked directly at him. "I told you what to do. You've got this."

Ezra took a deep breath and settled behind the rifle. Sabine scooted closer, peering at the target through the binoculars.

"Breathe easy. Focus on bringing down your heart rate. Relax."

Ezra exhaled, peering down the scope.

"Gentle squeeze. Center of mass."

The rifle sounded with a gentle _snap_.

As the projectile flew to its destination, it slowly broke apart. By the time it reached the foreman, only a small bead remained. It landed with a soft thud against his shoulder blades, coating him with a fine powder that clung to his clothes and skin, invisible to the naked eye. He brushed his shoulder, thinking one of Lothal's native insect species had run headlong into him.

Sabine changed the filter of the electrobinoculars. The man now glowed in a brilliant purple hue, while Kallus and the troopers remained a neutral blue. Next time Vizago visited the compound, they would send him the dye's unique wavelength. She looked over to Ezra with a smile.

"Not bad, kid."

Ezra rolled over to face her, propping his head with his hand. The cocky smile had returned.

"Like I said, hundreds of times." Sabine rolled her eyes.

"Don't ruin this," she said, a slight grin slipping through her unimpressed facade. The two quickly grabbed their belongings and eased away from the crest of the ridge. Once at the base of the hill, they took off at a quick jog back in the direction of the Phantom.

 **Author's note: Again, thank you so much for all of your support! _Growing_** _ **Insurgency**_ **topped 1,000 views this week, and I am truly honored for your time and attention. On a personal note, I'll be out and about in the wilderness for the next two weeks, and will not be able to update until afterwords. On a positive note, only one more week until "Imperial Supercommandos!" As always, your comments, questions, and suggestions are always welcome and encouraged.**

 **All the best,**

 **JA**


	5. Mercy

Streetlamps bathed the alleys surrounding the hanger in yellowing light, burning out the field of stars that hung in the early morning sky. Occasionally, the whine of a speeder engine accelerating in the distance disturbed the dawn. Otherwise, the rustling of loose papers in the wind provided the only activity in the streets surrounding Capital City's municipal spaceport.

Standing at his post, a Stormtrooper shifted his weight from one leg to the other. Inspections this early in the morning theoretically happened, but infrequently enough that the trooper felt comfortable deviating from the rigid posture his superiors demanded. A glimmer of movement caught his eye, but the sight of his partner rounding the corner of the building quickly quashed any hope of excitement.

"Anything?" the trooper called. His comrade shook his head.

"Someone once said 'war is boredom, punctuated by sheer terror.' I could go for some of the terror right now, three months into this deployment and not a…" The slouching trooper straightened suddenly, gesturing to the alley perpendicular to the street. From the shadows, a tall humanoid figure approached; as he continued into the street, the yellow glow of the lights illuminated the purple fur that covered his body.

"Is that a…" the first trooper began, almost shocked by the sight. His partner hesitated, then raised his blaster to a low ready.

"You there! Lasat! Hands where I can see them!" The Lasat complied, raising his paws into the air, continuing to advance further in the street. The first trooper leveled his blaster at the approaching man.

"That's close enough!" the Stormtrooper yelled, hoping the voice modulator in his helmet filtered the waiver in his voice.

"Any time now…" the Lasat muttered.

"What was that?" the trooper barked, adjusting his grip on the blaster. Their reply came in a flurry of motion, as a small figure swung around from behind the Lasat's back, extending a rectangular piece of metal at them. Before either Stormtrooper could react, two pulses of blue light sent electricity shooting through every nerve in their body. Both men collapsed into the dust of the street, unconscious before their weapons had even fallen to the ground.

"Coast's clear. Now, get down! You're pulling my fur!" Zeb growled. Ezra sprang from his hiding place, a spring in his step as moved to one of the collapsed soldiers.

"Awe, quit whining," Ezra jeered, pulling a comlink from the fallen man's belt. The cylinder remained silent, its indicator lights off. "No alarms. Spectre 1, we're good to go." From the alley, Kanan and Sabine ran to the doorway now left unguarded by the incapacitated troopers.

"Next time, _you're_ carrying the loth-monkey," Zeb snorted to Kanan as he drug the two bodies back towards the alleyway. Kanan shook his head with a chuckle, then turned his attention to the Mandalorian eyeing the doors to the hanger. She idly tossed a small brick between her hands; Kanan convinced himself that the material must be inert.

"Probably twenty centimeters deep… I bet I can kick through this with only one charge," Sabine announced, pointing the brick towards the door.

"As impressive as that is, the word of the night is _stealth_ ," Kanan retorted with a wry smile. Sabine slipped the brick back into a pouch on her belt, her pout hidden behind her helmet. As much as Kanan enjoyed indulging Sabine's pyrotechnic desires, the Empire had gotten quicker at responding to the _Ghost_ team's strikes; he didn't feel like testing their already poor luck. Zeb returned from the alley, pressing himself between Kanan and the edge of the door.

"How many of the bucketheads are we supposed to be dealing with, again?"

"Vizago said five, two exterior guards and three on the cargo." Hera's stunt the week prior still grated Kanan's nerves, but her deal with the Devaronian proved effective. The bad informant had suddenly become a wellspring of information following his unplanned meeting with the crime lord. As a courtesy, Vizago had provided them with the port's manifest and troop movements for the evening.

"I guess we're about to find out, aren't we," Ezra murmured, voicing the doubts Kanan held in his mind. The older Jedi remained stoic, watching Sabine tap away at the door controls. The panel flashed from red to green, prompting Sabine to place a self-assured hand on her hip as she looked back at him.

"Unlocked door, no boom, as requested." Kanan drew his blaster and nodded. Sabine keyed the panel again, and the doors slid open. The four prowled past, hiding behind a stack of crates in the open circle of the hanger. As promised, a cargo freighter sat silently in the center of the facility, a trio of troopers unloading boxes from its ramp. Zeb placed a hand on the crate at the top of the stack to peer over, unaware of its lack of contents. The crate fell away from the stack, clattering on the duracrete floor. All three troopers froze, turning to where the box had dropped.

"Well, so much for stealth," Kanan sighed. The momentary pause ended as blaster fire erupted in the hanger. One Stormtrooper crumpled to the ground as the other two attempted to return fire, then fled towards the back of the hanger. "Spectre 4 and 5 secure the hanger, 6 and I will prep the cargo," Kanan shouted as the team rushed from behind their cover towards the ship. Sabine sprinted around the right side of the ship, throwing herself behind a column supporting the far wall. A flurry of bolts slammed into the other side of the pillar, chunks of duracrete peppering her armor. As she returned fire, the distinctive _twang_ of Zeb's bo-rifle echoed through the hanger. Sabine heard a clatter, followed by an eerie stillness.

"5, just saw one squirt towards your side, watch yourself," Zeb's voice called through Sabine's comlink. Both pistols extended, she eased around her cover and cautiously advanced towards the back of the hanger. Ahead, another set of crates lay scattered and smoldering from the impact of her blaster fire. A mumble from the other side of the pile caught her attention, and she crept forward with blasters brandished.

"C'mon man, stay with me." The voice caused Sabine to freeze. Behind the crates, a Stormtrooper lay motionless, another crouched over him and pressing his hands into fallen soldier's abdomen. While strong enough to stop a glancing blow, the "lowest-bidder" mentality of the Empire meant Stormtrooper armor remained dangerously fragile to direct impacts. In this case, the blast had shattered the plastoid of the victim's abdominal plate, sending shards of the armor into his core. Under the florescent lights of the hanger, Sabine could see blood beginning to seep from the wound, trails of crimson tracing across the white plates of armor…

All at once, the nightmares raged back into the forefront of Sabine's mind. The eyes. The knife. The feeling of hands wrapping around her throat, crushing her trachea. She clenched her grip around the handles of her pistols, trying to ward panic away. The second trooper suddenly looked up towards her, the faceless gaze of his helmet frozen in place. Both his and his comrades blaster lay impotently on the ground on the other side of the fallen trooper's body. Sabine watched as the trooper raised his hands, noticing a tremble running through his form.

" _Please_ ," the Imperial choked out.

Tunnel vision now constricted Sabine's vision to the outline of the Stormtrooper's mask, provoking a fire of hatred deep in her stomach. That mask had haunted her dreams, threatened her friends, tried to take her life. Like the hundreds of identical copies that roamed Lothal's streets, it relentlessly hunted them in its quest to suffocate the last dissidents against Imperial rule. It was passive and uncaring, the unblinking executioner of the Empire's atrocities.

Another voice seemed to pull at the corner of her consciousness. Holstering one blaster, Sabine checked her comlink.

"Can anyone see her? Spectre 5, are you there?" Urgency in Kanan's voice bled through the distorted connection.

"This is 5. I'm here," Sabine spoke, her voice sounding foreign even to her own ears. Her eyes and blaster remained fixed on the Stormtrooper.

"Are you okay? What's going on?" Sabine hesitated, at a loss for words. Something clicked.

"Right side is secure. Two EPW in custody," she declared into the comlink.

" _Prisoners?_ Since when do we…" Zeb's voice began. Kanan silenced him, his voice authoritative.

"Clear the net. Spectre 5, do you need assistance?" Sabine stared at the trooper.

"Negative," she said, placing the comlink back on her belt. She raised her blaster higher. "Helmet off. _Slowly._ " The trooper raised shaky hands to his head, complying with her order. The uncaring plastoid slid away, revealing a youthful, ashen face. The dark brown of the trooper's eyes was nearly invisible from the size of his pupils, wide with fear. The anger in Sabine's stomach twisted into pity. _Another boy fighting some old man's war_ Sabine thought in disgust.

Reaching into a pouch on her belt, Sabine produced a small bag that she tossed to the trooper. Eyes still wide, the trooper looked to the bag in his hands, then back to the Mandalorian before him.

"It's a clotting solution. Pour it directly into the wound." The bewildered trooper looked again to the pouch, slowly pulling the top open. As he poured the powdered contents into the hole in the downed trooper's armor, the unconscious man stirred from the burning sensation of the coagulant activating. "How's his pulse?" Sabine asked in a flat tone. The helmetless trooper pressed two fingers into the prone man's neck.

"Stable." A soft whine rose from the distance, quickly growing into the distinctive shriek of the _Phantom_ 's engines. The shuttle appeared over the opening of the hanger, whipping gusts of air throughout the hanger as it descended into the ring of the building. Sabine heard the mechanical _whirr_ of a winch, then the _thud_ of magnetic clamps activating.

"Spectre 5, it's time to go," Kanan's voice announced through the comlink. Sabine began to back away from the troopers. The helmetless trooper's brow furrowed.

"Why?" the trooper blurted out. Sabine paused.

"What?"

"Why didn't you shoot me?" the trooper asked, face filled with incredulity.

Hera's words of comfort filled Sabine's mind. _It's easier when the enemy doesn't have a face, but ultimately we have to keep fighting for what's right._ Looking back at the trooper, Sabine continued to back away.

"My fight is not with you." With that, Sabine ducked behind the cargo ship, slipping into the awaiting hold of the _Phantom_. The shuttle rose again from the hanger into the orange of the morning sky, several crates dangling from the tow cable beneath it. With a roar, the craft launched forward, up and away from the spaceport. Taking a seat on one of the fold-out benches, Sabine slowly pulled her helmet off. Zeb and Ezra sat across from each other, already bickering over who had moved the majority of the crates. Kanan slid past them, taking a seat across from Sabine. He looked at her, a knowing smile on his face.

"How are you feeling?" he asked. Sabine met his smile, and returned it.

"At peace."

 **Author's note: Finally, a little closure for Sabine. Also, a little more Kanan. It's always a challange to try to keep the characters true to the show while adding more information, and I'm interested to know what I could do better and what people enjoyed. We'll stay in Season 1 a little longer, then it'll be off to the brave new world of Season 2!**

 **All the best,**

 **JA**


	6. Patience

Trailing a few paces behind Kanan and Zeb, Ezra surveilled the sea of faces that swept past them as they walked down the sidewalk. Though he was no stranger to crowds, he couldn't help but feel something was off about the strangers that passed by. Perhaps it was the way the still-unfamiliar orchid glow of Garel's atmosphere reflected on their features, darkening faces in a way that Lothal's bright sky never did. Regardless of species, everything seemed to take on a uniformly alien appearance.

"Still with us, kid?" Zeb said, his voice booming over the noise of the crowd. "Wouldn't want you to get swept away in this crowd." Ezra shot him an irritated glance.

"I'm here. Just seeing the sights, waiting for you to pick up the pace," Ezra clicked. Zeb snorted, but a stern look from Kanan stopped his retort before it left his lips.

"I swear, your bickering is going to make me go grey," Kanan lamented.

"That might not be a bad thing. I'm sure Hera would love the look," Zeb quipped as he and Ezra exchanged a glance. As the two snickered at the thought of the Jedi with a silvery ponytail, Kanan rolled his eyes, shaking his head with a wry smile. The three continued to make their way through the evening rush, turning away from the main thoroughfare and heading down a quieter side street towards Garel City's industrial district. When the three had left the _Ghost_ earlier that afternoon, neither Kanan nor Zeb had mentioned where they were going, only for him to follow. Now, as the sun began to sink below the rooftops, Ezra could contain his frustration with being kept in the dark no longer.

"Is anyone going to tell me what we're doing?" Ezra asked, a little more tersely than he intended. Kanan turned to him, giving him a patient but uninformative look.

"Answers don't always come from questions."

Before Ezra had a chance to reply to the vague statement, Kanan abruptly turned and walked into a darkened doorway that opened towards the avenue. Ezra hesitated, staring first into the darkness that Kanan had just disappeared into, then to the signs surrounding the door. An old neon sign flickered and hummed above the entry, simply stating _CITY CANTINA_ in flowy Huttese. He looked to Zeb for explanation, but the burly Lasat only shrugged with an entertained grin.

"Not sure what he's trying to teach you, but stick close. Places like this can get rowdy," Zeb offered. Ezra gave him another frustrated glance as he brushed past him towards the door.

"This isn't my first bar. I'll be fine," Ezra muttered. There were points in his life before the _Ghost_ where he had practically lived in or around Old Jho's bar. Upon crossing the threshold of the door, Ezra's bravado withered slightly. Like the rest of Garel, this bar felt completely foreign in comparison to Old Jho's. To start, the oblong room was packed, the din of dozens of voices ringing in Ezra's ears. A thick cloud of smoke hung near the entryway, the scent of cheap tobacco stinging Ezra's nostrils. While the spaceports of Lothal hosted a variety of different spacers and species, it paled in comparison to the sampling of creatures before him, several of which he couldn't even identify.

"It's best not to stare." Ezra jumped, startled by the baritone voice. Kanan put a hand on his shoulder, an amused smile on his face as Ezra blushed in embarrassment. "Ezra, go ahead and find us a table. Zeb, why don't you go make some new friends?" Zeb gave a devious smile and started for the bar, as Ezra looked back to Kanan in confusion. Preempting Ezra's question once again, Kanan pointed to a hole in the crowd towards the back of the room. "The smoke should be less heavy over there. I'll be right over, I'm going to get us something to drink."

Ezra nodded and pushed his way in the direction Kanan had indicated, bewildered with both the environment and Kanan's uncharacteristically vague attitude. Finding a small booth tucked into the corner of the room, he looked again out into the throng of patrons. As Kanan had predicted, the blue haze of smoke dissipated as it reached the back of the lounge, giving him a clear view of the entrance, the bar, and the tables in between. Zeb had found himself an open barstool, and was now engrossed in a highly animated conversation with two Weequay. Kanan stood at the other end of the bar, exchanging a handful of credits with the Gran bartender for a pair of beverages.

Kanan made his way to the table, setting one of the highball glasses in front of his padawan. Ezra picked up the frosted glass, eyeing the dark contents that rippled with the motion. The dim lighting of the bar made the contents appear an indiscernible dark color, a slightly lighter foam resting where the surface of the liquid met the edges of the glass. Ezra couldn't help but feel a slight twinge of excitement; Kanan hadn't previously allowed him to drink, and other than a few stolen sips he hadn't drank a full alcoholic beverage before. Unable to resist the anticipation, he brought the glass to his lips, only to taste the familiar sweetness of jogan fruit juice. Kanan chuckled at the wholly disappointed look on Ezra's face.

"If it makes you feel better, I'm having what you're having," Kanan offered.

"So, we are on mission?" Ezra muttered, taking another sip of the juice. Kanan set his glass on the table, resting his forearms on the edge.

"In a way, yes. I want to know how you're doing." Ezra shifted in the booth, eyes now set on the beverage he held in his hands. Kanan studied him for a moment before continuing. "It's been a long couple of weeks for all of us. Mustafar, getting forced off of Lothal, the Sith lord…" Ezra noticeably swallowed at the mention of the dark warrior.

"We've got to find a way to stop him. We need to be stronger," Ezra half-whispered, half-blurted out as he looked up to where Kanan sat. The older rebel gave him a reassuring smile.

"We need to be _patient_ ," Kanan corrected. Ezra took another long pull from his juice to mask his frustration, but could sense Kanan's unshakable presence probing his emotions. "I know I'm not the best example of that, not by a long shot," Kanan stated as he leaned back into his side of the booth. "It's something I've always struggled with."

"Like with the Phoenix Squadron?" Ezra inquired, recalling the quiet argument he had witnessed between Kanan and Hera aboard the _Phoenix Home_. Kanan nodded with another chuckle.

"Yes. And I'm sure you can come up with a dozen other examples." It was Ezra's turn to laugh as he pantomimed counting on his fingers, earning a sheepish look from Kanan. The laughter quickly died when a large Aqulaish stumbled to their table, slamming his hands down on the edge with enough force to send Ezra's empty glass tumbling into his lap. The intruder eyed both of them, leaning in close enough for Ezra to smell the heavy stench of liquor on its breath.

"I know you two," the Aqualish began in slurred, broken Basic. "From the shuttle. You took my guns, you and that Mandalorian girl!" Ezra tried to remain passive, slowly slipping his hand closer to the reassuring metal grip of his lightsaber. His eyes flicked to Kanan, who gestured slightly with his hand for him to wait. If the surprise appearance of the disgruntled Aqualish startled Kanan, he didn't show it; the man's posture remained unflappably calm, as always. He leaned closer to the uninvited guest, subtly waving his fingers.

"We didn't take your weapons." The Aqualish stiffened slightly, its large black eyes widening. He mumbled something in his own language, leaning away from the table. "You saw the thieves go out the door," Kanan intoned. The Aqualish muttered again, then turned away from the table and shambled through the room and out the door. Setting the fallen glass back onto the table, Ezra again leaned back into the seat, crossing his arms.

"So, you're going to teach me how to do that now, right?" Kanan finished the contents of his glass and set it next to Ezra's.

"Like I said, _patience_." Kanan watched as his padawan's shoulders tensed with displeasure. "It comes with time and practice. Think of it like connecting with the loth-cats. You're not exerting your will over the creature, but influencing it, and letting it come to its own conclusions. The hardest part is opening yourself to making the connection." Ezra's tense demeanor eased as Kanan spoke, as he contemplated his words. Ezra raised an eyebrow as another thought passed through his mind.

"Wait, but does that mean you can control a person the way I controlled the fyrnock? Back at the asteroid base?" Kanan stiffened at the suggestion. He opened his mouth to reply, then hesitated. After a second of consideration, he continued with a serious tone.

"There's a difference between a mind trick and controlling someone. It was said that the Sith had the power to dominate lesser minds, and bend them to their will…" Kanan's voice trailed off. He shook his head, then smiled at Ezra. "It's a big leap from loth-cats and fyrnocks to people. Just be careful, remember that it's a person on the other end, and making the connection can be rather… invasive."

The table lapsed into a momentary silence as Ezra pondered Kanan's words. Before he could press Kanan for details, Zeb appeared from the end of the table. Pushing into the booth beside Ezra, he propped his forearms on the table and leaned in towards Kanan.

"What did your friends have to say?" Kanan asked, the amused grin returning to his face.

"Sounds like Imps have supply ships coming in and out of the ports on the regular, and not enough security to cover them all," Zeb declared, his tone a bit off from his usual gruff voice. "Also, the 'tender has his own special brew that he does, and it's pretty good…" Kanan and Ezra exchanged a glance.

"What exactly did you tell Hera we were doing today?" Ezra inquired.

"Gathering intelligence," Kanan replied with a smirk. Ezra laughed, quieting down when he noticed movement at the doorway. The Aqualish had returned, and was now speaking with the bartender. A pair of Stormtroopers stood at the doorway, speaking with the patrons sitting closest to the entrance.

"Our friend's back, and brought company" Ezra muttered, unclipping the saber from his belt. "What's the chances they won't recognize us?"

"Not good," Kanan muttered, slowly rising from his seat. "Let's show ourselves out." He began to reach for his own blaster, but stopped when Zeb began to sway as he stood from the booth. As he reached to steady him, the Lasat put his entire arm around him, leaning heavily on him for support. Kanan shot him an irritated look. "How much of the 'special brew' did you drink?"

"I said it was good," Zeb replied sheepishly. Kanan exhaled pointedly, then looked back to Ezra.

"The back door is just over there. Lead the way." Ezra nodded, slipping past the two. Within moments, the three had slipped into the back alley, making their way towards the main street. All three took cover behind a dumpster as a group of Stormtroopers came into view, then stopped at the entrance to the alleyway. A trooper with a colored shoulder pauldron turned towards the others.

"A local arms dealer says he's been ripped off, and said the people who did it are inside. We're doing a cordon-and-search of the block. Stay here, and make sure no one goes out the back." Three of the troopers nodded, while the rest of the group continued down the street and out of sight. Ezra looked around the alley, now shrouded in darkness by the arrival of twilight.

"I've got an idea. Stay here." Kanan opened his mouth to object, but stopped himself.

"Alright. Just be careful." Ezra nodded, then looked over the rim of the dumpster. Pulling a dirty tablecloth from the refuse, he quietly tore a hole just big enough for his head to fit through the center of it. Stooping to where a rain gutter emptied into the alleyway, he splashed some of the grimy liquid onto his face and hair, tussling the raven locks into a mess with his hand.

His transformation complete, Ezra slinked down the alley towards the troopers. The trio turned to face him, but their blasters remained lowered.

"Spare a credit? I need to get food for my papa," Ezra asked weakly, inflecting his voice to sound younger.

"Beat it, kid. No handouts," one of the troopers snarled. Ezra sunk his shoulders in fake dejection, turning towards the street. Planting his toe into a crack in the sidewalk, Ezra threw himself sideways onto the sidewalk, bumping one of the troopers and sending himself sprawling. "Watch it, you _kriffing_ klutz!" the impacted trooper bellowed.

"Sorry! Sorry!" Ezra pled, shrinking away back down the alley with hands upturned. As he returned to where Kanan and Zeb hid, he held up the small cylinder he had managed to snatch from the trooper. Zeb shook his head as Kanan put a head on his chest to steady him.

"Great. A comlink. Shoulda' taken his gun." Ezra held up a finger to pause Zeb's complaints, then switched the comlink on, jamming a small piece of metal into the button to keep it in the "transmit" position. Immediately, the troopers at the end of the alley began to look to each other in confusion, tapping on the earpiece of their helmets.

"Jamming their comms is a good start. What's next?" Kanan asked. Ezra smirked, spinning a metal ring on his index finger.

"We wait."

One of the troopers took a step forward. Without its retaining ring in place, the pin of the shock grenade on his belt slipped free with the movement, making a small _tink_ as it fell to the ground. All three stared at the pin in horror, then convulsed in unison as a storm of electric pulses coursed through their bodies. As the troopers clattered to the ground, Ezra crept back to the corner, then waved for the others to follow. As they hurried down the street away from the bar, Zeb put his other arm around Ezra's shoulders.

"Not bad, kid. Didn't know if you'd pull that one off," he slurred. Ezra grinned at Kanan, then looked back to Zeb.

"You just need to have some patience."

 **Author's note: First, a belated happy holidays to you all! We're finally moving into season 2, where we'll see more familiar faces making appearances and the stakes getting higher for both Ezra and Sabine. Only one more week of _SWR_ hiatus to go! As always, questions/comments/suggestions are welcome and appreciated!**

 **All the best,**

 **JA**


	7. Family

"We would've gotten out of there quietly if you hadn't tripped the motion detector!"

"That wasn't me!"

The sound of the teens' argument announced their return, shattering the tranquility of the _Ghost_ 's halls. Stepping out from the _Phantom_ 's doorway, Ezra raised his hands in protest.

"I wasn't even in the room! Anything that happened in there is on you!"

"No, you bumping around in the vents was knocking ceiling panels loose! It's a miracle we didn't wake up the entire garrison!" Sabine insisted.

"Hey, you can't fault a guy for getting bigger," Ezra retorted, flexing his biceps to emphasize his point. Sabine groaned audibly, while Zeb chuckled from behind the two.

"You might not fit in the vents anymore kid, but your arms _definitely_ aren't the problem," Zeb prodded, earning a snicker from Sabine. Ezra shot both of them a glare before slipping into the refresher, closing and locking the door behind him.

"Looks like you two don't want any hot water!" Ezra called out from behind the sealed door.

"There better be some left if you want to sleep tonight!" Zeb growled. Shaking her head, Sabine continued down the hall to her room. As enticing as the opportunity to wash away the sour smell of dried sweat and ozone from her body was, Sabine still had work to do. Weapons maintenance always came before personal hygiene - priorities of work that had been drilled into her from the first time she had donned her armor.

Setting her helmet aside on the bunk, Sabine retrieved a small bag from her locker, unzipping the top to reveal an assortment of brushes and cloths. As she turned to set the kit on the table under her bunk, she paused. A painting from the night before lay on the table drying, an assortment of paint jars and brushes surrounding it. Weighing the amount of effort she was willing to put into clearing the table, she poked her head out into the hall. The sound of running water and Ezra's crooning voice filtered faintly through the refresher door; otherwise, the ship had returned to its passive silence. Judging that with the rest of the crew occupied she'd be able to work with minimal interruption, Sabine elected to move to the common room and deal with the painting mess later.

As the door to the common room slid open, the piney scent of solvent wafted into her nostrils. A pair of blasters lay disassembled on the Dejarik table, their components set in neat, equally-spaced rows. Sabine started to take a step back in retreat when the weapons' owner looked up from his seat behind the table.

"Good afternoon," Rex called out, a warm smile crossing his face. With a shy smile, Sabine stopped in the doorway.

"Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt. I didn't know anyone was in here."

"You're not interrupting, come on in. Just doing some cleaning," Rex said, gesturing to the table with a wire brush. Her smile growing, Sabine held up the kit in her hand.

"Mind if I join?" Rex nodded towards the open bench, moving his own bag off of the table onto the ground beside him. Sliding onto the seat, Sabine drew her blasters from their holsters and set them in the newly-opened space on the table. Disassembling her weapons was a task that had long ago been imprinted on her muscle memory; as her hands manipulated the slide release and extracted the barrel from its housing, Sabine's mind began to contemplate the man working beside her. Though Rex had only joined the squadron a few weeks earlier, she had gained a quick appreciation for the old soldier. She found his quiet professionalism a refreshing change from the good-natured but slightly cavalier and wholly chaotic attitudes that dominated the _Ghost_ 's crew. He radiated control and confidence, from the measured cadence of his speech to the way he carried himself as he walked.

Selecting a wire brush from her bag, Sabine began scrubbing away the carbon that clung stubbornly to the flash suppressor. Reaching across the table, Rex picked up a small bottle and offered it to her.

"Try this, it'll save you some time. Just a little bit is all you need." Accepting the vial with an appreciative smile, Sabine unscrewed the lid and examined the contents. Dark yellow in color, the fluid had a vaguely floral scent that wafted into the room as she applied it to a small rag. As she rubbed the patch across the end of the barrel, the carbon seemed to wipe away effortlessly.

"Oh, I think I'm going to have to keep this," Sabine teased. Chuckling softly, Rex held up a larger bottle from his bag.

"Feel free, I've got plenty." The two lapsed into a contented silence as they continued their work, only the scraping of picks and wire brushes against metal interrupting the quiet. Absently running a cloth through the barrel of one of the weapons, Sabine found herself studying Rex's profile. While the accelerated aging process had taken its toll, his resemblance to Jango Fett was still strikingly visible. She wondered how much of Jango's character and heritage the clones adopted; while he had claimed to been from Concord Dawn, Fett's status as a Mandalorian remained divisive even after the end of the New Mandalorian government. Even so, there seemed to be a connection between the clone and Mandalore that extended beyond the stylization of his armor.

A familiar tune drifted into her thoughts, drums and horns set against the chanting of warriors. Memories stirred in her mind of forging her own armor, listening to her father hum the tune as his hammer struck the white-hot steel in time with drum. As the plates slowly took their form, her mother had slowly recited the words to each line, ingraining the lyrics in Sabine's mind. She remembered the intense pride she felt as she donned the coveted helmet the first time, singing _Vode An_ alongside her family. They were treasured memories, brief moments of happiness before the times that had followed.

It took Sabine a moment to comprehend that the tune wasn't just in her thoughts, but resonating in the room itself. As he continued his work, Rex was humming the tune in perfect pitch. She realized that in her reflection she had been staring directly at him. Embarrassed, she looked away, but the man continued to hum, seemingly unaware or unfazed by her gaze. As she resumed cleaning the barrel that she had been idly holding, a deep bass voice rumbled through the room.

 _Glory!  
One indomitable heart, Brothers all.  
We, the wrath of Mandalore, Brothers all._

The sound of _Mando'a_ stunned her. It had been a long time since she had heard her mother tongue spoken, let alone let alone the _Vode An_ sung. Rex continued the hymn, his foot gently tapping in time against the metal of the floor. As she listened, chills ran down her spine as the lyrics seemed to beckon her to join. Sabine hesitated, then slowly allowed the words to slip past her lips.

 _And glory, eternal glory,  
We shall bear its weight together._  
 _Forged like the saber in the fires of death, Brothers all._

Immediately, the lines flowed back into her mind as if she had only left Mandalore the day before. Starting just below a whisper, her voice slowly rose to match the older warrior's until the room was filled with the harmony of alto and bass reciting the ancient call to arms.

 _Our vengeance burns brighter still.  
Every last traitorous soul shall fall.  
Forged like the saber in the fires of death, Brothers all!_

Almost in time with the final beat, the slide of her blaster locked back into place, its reassembly complete. Setting the blaster down on the table, she turned to Rex, her face alight.

"Your _Mando'a_ is really good!" Rex smiled, fitting a retaining pin back into his own weapon.

"I'm afraid that's about as good as it gets. Though, our instructors made sure we were fluent in the curses…" he replied, as Sabine snorted with a stifled snicker. Gently shaking his head, Rex looked up from the table, his laughter fading into a wistful smile. "The instructors, they were always butting heads with the Kaminoans over teaching us the language. They thought we needed to have some sort of identity to hold on to beyond 'soldiers of the Grand Army of the Republic.' The long-necks saw it as 'encouraging deviant behavior.' In the end though, the instructors did what they wanted."

Finishing his work on the first blaster, Rex began placing the pieces of the other together, looking over to Sabine. "The Kaminoans came around to it eventually, probably because the message improved some measure of performance they were tracking. For us, we embraced the idea of comradery, of purpose." Sabine nodded, an unfamiliar pang of longing for home striking her. "It's funny, we spent years in the flash-learning modules and simulators preparing, but the first time the gunship door opened and we set foot on a different world, everything felt completely _alien_. Geonosis, Christophsis, Naboo, Ryloth… each place unique with different people, different languages, different cultures. Even made it to Mandalore, during the siege. I guess we were lucky that those mercenaries cared enough to give us something to belong to."

Looking down to the blaster in her hands, Sabine set her jaw. Hearing Rex talk of 'comradery' filled her mind with memories again, this time in the negative. Even the relief of escaping the nightmare that was the Imperial Academy hadn't been enough to overcome the pain of walking away from those cherished familial bonds. She had told herself that she didn't need them, that she was strong enough on her own, but hadn't begun to feel truly whole until her chance encounter with Kanan and Hera. Now, even in the midst of her adoptive family, she couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something was still left unfinished in her past.

A gloved hand came to rest upon her shoulder. Startled, Sabine looked up to find Rex looking intently at her, eyes full of understanding. His other hand was held outstretched towards her, the grip of the now-assembled blaster offered towards her.

"Check my work?" Sabine nodded, taking the blaster with a newfound grin. Rolling the DC-17 through her hands, she noted the myriad of scuffs and scrapes across its exterior, the rougher edges worn down to gentle curves by years of use. Checking the alignment of the slide and retaining pins, she slipped a power cell into its housing, noting the green light of the status indicator.

"You're all set," she announced, handing the blaster back to him. Picking up one of her own sidearms from the table, Sabine mirrored Rex's gesture. "Will you do me the honor?" A broad smile on his face, Rex duplicated the checks with a nod of approval.

"Clean as a whistle," he noted as he returned the weapon to her. The sound of running water from the refresher fell silent, and after a few moments the sound of the door unlocking and opening echoed from the hallway.

"Sounds like the shower is open. Go clean yourself up, _ad'ika_ ," Rex said with a wink. Beaming, Sabine holstered her weapons and made her way down the hall. One day, she'd face her family again and make things right. In the meantime, her new family had grown one person larger.

* * *

 _Vode An_ \- an ancient Mandalorian war chant; literally, "Brothers all."  
 _ad'ika_ \- "little one," used as a term of endearment

 **Author's note: Happy new year to you all! I hope your holiday breaks were pleasant, and those of you going back to work and school have made a gentle transition back. One of my personal hopes for future SWR episodes is more Sabine-Rex interaction. The new cannon still hasn't made clear the clones' relationship to Mandalorian culture (other than de-Mandoing Jango), but either way I think there's a lot of room for cool interactions and stories between the two of them. As always, thank you for reading, and your comments/questions/concerns are always appreciated!**

 **All the best,**

 **JA**


	8. The Cold

As the _Phantom_ slipped out of hyperspace, Ezra stood in stunned admiration at the world that now dominated the viewport. Brilliant white with veins of deep blue marbling its surface, Orto Plutonia looked like a magnificent gem hung against a starry backdrop. From the pilot's chair, Kanan smiled at the wonderment that filled Ezra's face.

"It's beautiful," Ezra stated.

"That it is," Kanan affirmed. "Beautiful, quiet, and out of the way."

" _Very_ out of the way," Ezra snorted, his initial awe wearing off. "I get that we're not looking to find trouble, but isn't there something that we could be doing for the squadron more valuable than going on fetch quests?"

"Well, we're part of the squadron, and Hera is the squadron _leader_ , so if she tells us to go somewhere it's an _order_ …"

"Because you're all about taking orders," Ezra interjected. Smirking at the comment, Kanan disengaged the manual controls, letting Chopper direct the shuttle into the planet's orbit. As the _Phantom_ began its gentle descent, he swiveled the pilot's chair around to directly face his padawan.

"Orto Plutonia has rich fuel deposits that could sustain the fleet for years. Its people, the Talz, are very suspicious of outsiders, and we're the squadron's best chance for negotiating with them." Raising an eyebrow at the older Jedi, Ezra crossed his arms and slipped down into one of the fold-out seats.

"So, we're going to go talk. And we're qualified for this how?" A soft smile on his face, Kanan produced the holocron from his bag. As the cube lifted from his hand, a still image of the Jedi master Ezra had first seen aboard the Star Destroyer flickered into the room.

"During the Clone War, Master Kenobi made the first recorded contact with the Talz," Kanan began. "He managed to earn their trust, and set up the negotiations that avoided war on the planet and eventually gave the Talz political autonomy. While we might not be the best negotiators, the Talz still respect the Jedi, which makes us the best choice for the mission." Ezra nodded quietly, the blue glow of the holoimage illuminating his face.

"Master Kenobi… what was he like?" Ezra asked. Kanan's smile grew distant as the holoimage faded away, the holocron slowly returning to his outstretched hand.

"He was incredibly wise, a great warrior, and a better teacher," he said, tucking the holocron back into his bag and turning back to the controls of the _Phantom._ "He had a good way of dealing with obstinate padawans who asked too many questions," Kanan half-teased, half-reflected as he reengaged the yoke, taking back control of the ship.

Rolling his eyes, Ezra walked back to the rear storage containers, pulling out bags of rations and supplies and loading them into his backpack. A sudden chill came over him, prompting him to grab his heavier coat from the bin. While the _Phantom_ was generally cold while traveling through space, he had long gotten used to the temperature of the ship. Zipping up the jacket offered a momentary respite, but within moments the cold seemed to run through him. He turned to the diagnostic display on the wall to see if there was some mechanical problem, but the readout showed no such fault. The cold suddenly intensified, piercing him to the bone and seemingly flooding the pit of his stomach with ice water. Steadying himself on the bulkhead, Ezra realized that the paralyzing feeling was something far more sinister than the air temperature.

"Kanan… something's wrong… Do you feel that?" Ezra said, turning back to the front of the cabin. Kanan slowly nodded, his brow furrowing in concern as he guided the _Phantom_ lower until it was skimming mere meters from the planet's surface. On the horizon, a black column jutted out against the clouded sky; within moments, an orange glow accompanied the smoke in the direction of their destination. Setting the _Phantom_ down beneath a rocky outcropping a few kilometers from the village, Kanan rose from his seat as a set of warbling tones sounded from the intercom.

"Chopper says he didn't detect any ships in the area. Still, let's go in quietly and figure out what happened," Kanan instructed. Nodding in silent agreement, Ezra pulled the hood of the coat over his head, grimacing at the blast of frigid wind that greeted the two as they set out towards the village. As they crossed the icy flats, Ezra noted the rocky heights that the village seemed nestled into. The smoldering huts were terraced against the grey, jagged formations, sitting in a rough crescent across several different ledges.

As the two approached, the heights began to break the wind that had buffeted their faces. As the howling of the storm died down, an unnatural stillness laid heavily on their ears. Other than crackling of the smoldering huts and the crunch of the snow beneath their boots, no sound disturbed the silence that dominated the area. Kanan walked closer to one of the shattered buildings, crouching to inspect the damage.

"The frame inside is charred, but not as bad as the walls… this is recent," he muttered. Ezra walked deeper into the village, looking at the destruction around him.

"I don't see blaster marks anywhere, but I don't sense anyone either," he stated. As Ezra stooped to check another building, Kanan noticed an uneven layering of the ground at the edge of the village. Drawing closer, he could see furrows dug into the snow, their edges softened by freshly fallen snow, leading to a small ridgeline. Following the marks, Kanan came to the crest of the ridge, his stomach turning as he looked to the other side. The ridge sloped downwards into a shallow trough; in it, motionless forms lay piled atop each other, a thin layer of snow covering the bodies.

Kanan heard the crunching of approaching footsteps behind him.

"Did you find something?" Ezra called as he began up the embankment. Kanan turned away, shaking his head.

"Nothing. There's nothing here." Walking down the slope, he placed a hand on Ezra's shoulder to guide him back down towards the village. Kanan pushed the nagging guilt of the lie to the back of his mind; the boy had seen far too much for his age already as it was. "We should go," he declared, moving with Ezra back towards the flats.

"Leaving so soon?"

The voice crowed out from the village, setting the hairs on the back of Ezra's neck on edge. As the two turned back towards the village, a black-clad figure uncurled from the shadows of the rocky heights, slipping from its perch to a crouch on ground below. Ezra's lightsaber flashed to life moments before Kanan's followed suit. Rising to her full height, the Seventh Sister's plastoid veil parted to reveal her sadistic grin.

"The apprentice, this time with his master. An unexpected, but not unwelcome, surprise," she called, the slight electronic tone of her voice humming with pleasure. Anger rising in his chest, Ezra brought his saber up with both hands to point at the Inquisitor.

"You! You'll pay for what you've done here!" he snarled as the Seventh Sister's grin widened. Kanan extended a hand in front of him, beckoning him to wait.

"Focus, she's baiting you. We'll take her together." As the two cautiously advanced, the Inquisitor's continued to grin, her saber in her hand but deactivated.

"You're pretty cocky to show up here alone," Kanan called out, his eyes sizing up the dark warrior. The Sister chuckled softly, placing a hand on her hip.

"Who says I'm alone?"

A tremor in the Force shot through Kanan's body milliseconds before spinning red blades collided with his reactive parry. The saber flew back into the hands of the Fifth Brother, who charged from the shadows of the heights to collide with Kanan. In an instant, the Seventh Sister's saber hissed to life as she sprang forward towards Ezra, the whirling red blades arcing violently against the blue of his saber. Kanan stepped to aid him, only to be forced back by the successive pounding blows of the Fifth Brother's saber. Stealing glances towards his padawan's fight, he watched as Ezra parried a series of strikes at his midsection. Swinging low at the Seventh Sister's legs, Ezra inadvertently exposed his head, to which the Inquisitor dealt a deft blow with her gauntlet. Unable to escape the Fifth Brother's assault, Kanan helplessly watched as Ezra staggered backward and slipped down the embankment behind him, disappearing from sight.

Ezra pushed himself to his knees, disoriented from the fall. The snow before him was dotted with splotches of red from the trickle of blood that began at his nose and ran its course around the curvature of his lips. Hearing the footsteps of his approaching assailant, he rushed to stand, only to have his feet slide out from under him. Beneath the displaced snow, a solid layer of deep blue ice now revealed itself. Cautiously getting his footing, he stood to face the approaching Inquisitor.

"Oh, how I enjoy these little games we play. You have such tenacity, such spirit…" the Sister crooned.

"What have you done? Where did you take them?" Ezra bellowed, cautiously stepping to his ready position as the Inquisitor circled.

"Who, the Talz? Those beasts could not be reasoned with. They were no use to us, so they were eliminated. Did your master not tell you?" Immediately, the dark embers burning in the pit of Ezra's stomach set alight into an inferno. The Seventh Sister watched in delight as hatred flashed into his eyes. "And why do you care about them? Did you think you could protect them? You couldn't protect yourself or your friend in the medical center, and you can't protect yourself or your master now." Ezra cried out in anger as he charged forward, only to have his attack batted away by the Sister.

"You will always be weaker if you neglect your anger. Weak, pitiful, defenseless." Beyond the point of reason, Ezra felt the burning fires traveling up his spine, through his arms. Instead of fighting it, he let it flow as at pleased, consuming his head and body he lunged forward at the Inquisitor. His blade traveled in a blue flurry, flashing from high to low as the Sister's expression shifted from pleasure to concern. She matched his blade's pace but began to lose ground, as he pushed her further out onto the ice.

The Fifth Brother's swings were heavy, sending shudders through Kanan's entire body every time their blades connected. He realized that the Inquisitor had him completely on defense, pushing him further into the village towards the heights. Dodging a high swing, Kanan spied a small alcove jutting out from the rocks. He allowed the Brother to force him ever closer to the entrapment, biding his time to transition to the offense. It was as they neared the outcropping that the icy dagger surged through Kanan's bond with Ezra, chilling his body and sending him staggering. The Brother slammed his blade against Kanan's, a cruel smile spreading across his face.

"It seems the boy is more powerful than you would let him be. How useful," the Inquisitor taunted as he threw Kanan back. His head hanging low, the Jedi deactivated his lightsaber, panting as his hands rested heavily on his knees. "At least you are truthful enough to admit when you are beaten," the Brother growled, charging forward. Just as he neared, Kanan's head snapped up again, too late for the Inquisitor to halt his momentum. Dodging to the side, Kanan grabbed the warrior's arm and propelled him forward into the rocks, slashing the overhang with his saber to entomb the Inquisitor. Without taking a second look back at his work, Kanan sprinted towards the ridge where he could hear the crackling of clashing sabers.

The Seventh Sister's expression had deteriorated from concern to alarm as she struggled to maintain the rapid pace of Ezra's blade. Gradually, her parries slowed as Ezra began to swing with savage strength to knock her blade out of place. She absorbed the first few blows, but was slowly overwhelmed by the assault. One final strike knocked her saber a few centimeters out of position, allowing Ezra to land a singeing swipe on her leg. As she cried out in pain, he threw his own jab, connecting with her jaw and sending her sprawling backwards. Suddenly, the fire in his body extinguished, leaving him feeling utterly spent and exhausted. He mustered all his strength to keep his blade pointed at the fallen warrior, but lights were beginning to spark in his vision as his footing began to falter. As Kanan neared the two, he could see the Sister struggling to rise as Ezra began to reel backwards. The Inquisitor, leaning heavily on her good leg, turned to face Kanan.

"Well, Jedi, you have a choice. You may have me, _or the apprentice_." Before Kannan could react, her red blade swiped low onto the ground at Ezra's feet. As Ezra slumped to his knees, spider-webs of fissures formed around him. With a sharp crack, the ice shattered and Ezra disappeared, a small dark pool enveloping him. In one movement, Kanan deactivated his saber and dived headlong into the murky waters. A sinister smile crossing her face, the Seventh Sister limped away in retreat.

Immediately, the brutal cold of the frigid waters shook Kanan, like a mighty fist striking against his core. Ignoring the pain, he pulled himself downwards into the abyss. The ice above blotted out all light, leaving him surrounded in darkness as he groped lower, searching for any sign of the bottom or his padawan. As his desperation grew, his arms began to flail, until he finally felt a solid object brush against his hands. Wrapping his arms around it, he pulled, barely feeling the touch of fabric in his hands. His lungs were burning as his kicked upward, pointing himself to the small spot of light above him. Fireworks were now bursting in his vision as he fought with all his strength towards the surface.

The two exploded from the icy pool, Kanan furiously gasping for air. As he pulled himself and Ezra onto the ice, he waited for the red blades to snuff the life away from him and his padawan. However, as he lay on the ice heaving, no blow came. As he forced open his eyes, he saw nothing but endless snow around them, billowing in wind. He forced himself upright, pulling Ezra further from the break, his eyes searching desperately for refuge from the storm. Like an answer to his unspoken call, the _Phantom_ suddenly broke through the whiteout, Chopper's frenzied beeping piercing through the howling wind. Dragging Ezra aboard, Kanan strained to seal the ramp, finally silencing the howl of the wind. The cabin shuddered as the sublight drives roared to life propelling them away from the planet.

Rolling Ezra's still form upright, Kanan wiped the dripping mop of hair from his face and pressed two fingers into his neck. His face deathly grey, Ezra's skin was cold, damp, and motionless to Kanan's touch. Pinching the boy's nose, Kanan placed his mouth over the darkened lips, the impulse of air giving a short rise to Ezra's chest. Still not gaining any response, Kanan set the heels of his palms on Ezra's chest, driving his arms downwards in short impulses. For what felt like an eternity Kanan thrust against Ezra's chest, the pounding of his own heart drowning out the sound of ribs straining and fracturing. Slowly, the shaking tremors of cold, exhaustion, and grief overpowered Kanan, his body unable to do more than pull the lifeless body into his chest.

 _You can't go… you can't go like this_. The warmth of his tears prickled against Kanan's frostbitten face as he slowly ran his fingers through Ezra's hair.

 _Too in love with life as it is…_

Master Bilaba's words drifted through Kanan's mind, as the grip of the shaking cold seemed to recede slightly.

 _Those emotions are valuable, and should not be suppressed, but you must learn to_ rule _them, padawan…_

Kanan stared down at Ezra's body, his hands cradling his face.

 _Lest they rule_ you.

Kanan let his eyes close. Around him, he could feel planets and signatures speeding past him, billions of lifeforms passing by as he watched. Near him, a small ember remained, flickering in staunch resistance to the darkness that was pressing towards it. Kanan allowed the light to surround him, willing his presence to push the darkness away. He reached out and felt the dormant sparks of life in the cells of Ezra's muscles, gently massaging them back into activity. The faintest of gasps beckoned Kanan out of the trance; at his fingertips, a gentle pulse resumed through Ezra's body. Joy and elation coursed through Kanan's mind as he shakily pulled the boy closer to him, praying that they would reach the _Ghost_ before the cold took them both.

 **Author's note: For those wondering, Orto Plutonia is the planet depicted in the _Clone Wars_ episode "Trespass." Additionally, the quotes used at the end of the story are directly attributable to the comic series _Kanan: The Last Padawan_. I hope that no one was too turned-off by the level of darkness in this chapter, it will get a little brighter in the next chapter. As always, your comments, concerns, and suggestions are always welcome!**

 **All the best,**

 **JA**


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